When I was very young, my father married a second time and after this marriage, Broughton Island (Georgia) was no longer our home, although my father continued to reside there most of his time, and we went occasionally on visits. The first winter after this marriage we spent at "Rose Hill", in Maryland, a lovely place, the house standing on a hill that overlooked the Sassafras River. There was an old and a new part to the house, the new being built of brick, the old of wood. The latter was very quaint, with cupboards let into the walls. Upstairs, under the doormer windows, there were also closets with shelves close to the floor. These we children used as our doll-houses, since our nurseries were in that house. Our parents had their chambers in the new part, and in the room over the back parlor, my little brother Frank was born. This was impressed upon me from his being the first newborn baby I had ever seen.

As I have said, open fires were the order of the day, and as the first winter in Maryland was an unusually cold one, we Southern children suffered very much from the climate. It was the fashion for all juveniles, infants included, to go low neck and short sleeves in all weathers in the house. Two dresses that I had I remember distinctly; a green merino trimmed with narrow black velvet, and a crimson one trimmed in the same way. When the river became frozen over, our father one day carried us down to see it, and my sister Gussie was so overcome with the cold that he had to bring her back in his arms. On reaching the house her hands and feet had to be rubbed with vinegar to restore their circulation.

In Maryland and Virginia the older Negroes were called Uncle and Aunt.Farther south this was changed into Daddy and Mauma. At "Rose Hill" the head of the Negro cabinet was Aunt Martha. She had belonged to my father's grandfather, General Forman, so she was considered on general principles to be the guardian of the place. She it was who could tell us what "Old Master and Mistress" used to do, and could show us the grove of trees where they were accustomed to take their tea on summer afternoons. She always washed up the breakfast and tea things, and at night we would gather around her while she was performing this duty, and beg her to talk to us about old times, and tell us stories. She was a great hand at the latter, particularly fairy tales. I heard "The Almond Tree" first from her, and when she would say "My little sister picked my bones" we would all shudder. During the way, this old woman took entire charge of the house at "Rose Hill", and when the war was over and my father had returned, there was not a chair or spoon out of place, and Aunt Martha received him as if he had left the house the day before. She was an excellent cook, and "Aunt Martha's coffee" had a reputation. She was a devout Romanist, and faithful in much, so I know that long ere this she has entered into the joy of her Lord.

There was an old flower garden at "Rose Hill" which you reached by going down a flight of steps. The beds were laid off in the most precise order, the whole being surrounded by a high hedge. Some of this box was cut into fantastic shapes and hollows, the latter containing benches, generally, so that the wanderers in this old garden might rest themselves if they so chose. No place could have afforded more delightful nooks for children to play hide-and-seek in, for there we could really lose ourselves. Here we first met the Wards and the Knights, playing with them on the rare occasions when we visited each other.

I think we must have been about a year at "Rose Hill", for when we left there it was again winter, and the carriage in which we drove twenty miles to reach the station was lined inside with blankets. The cold was so intense that a Negro boy, who was sitting outside with the driver, had to be brought inside with us to keep him warm.

From Maryland, we went to my stepmother's old home at St. Julien, near Fredericksburg.